Here, At The End Of It All
by dragonfly360
Summary: You can forgive him for thinking too much just this once. Rated T mainly to be safe and for character deaths, angst, and infrequent swearing. Implied pairings.


I was feeling angsty and depressed when I first wrote this, a few months back when I had just lost one of my friends to a drink driving accident. Since then I've randomly been editing and rewriting, adding in implied pairings (I can't surpress my GaaSaku fan side). Enjoy my first angsty fic. If enjoy is the right sentiment.

Summary: Naruto's thoughts about the past, and the present, now that he sees it's all over.

Pairings: Implied NaruHina, GaaSaku, NejiTen, KakaIru(if you squint)

Warnings: Angst, character death...you get the idea.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

I had tried so hard.

God knows, I had tried so…fucking…_hard_. All that I have done…-all the training, all the studying, all the hope-, all of it for nothing. I had suffered and got through so much to get here.

But where is here?

Here, in the remains of what once had been a house, or here, the spot at the feet of my best friend?

I have failed. I have failed myself, my village, my precious people…my _dream_. Because although I had always, always, said 'I'm gonna be Hokage someday!', it had always meant 'you're going to accept me…you'll love me someday'. Somewhere along the line, maybe when I had left for training, or maybe when I had realised just why I didn't like my new team-mate, it had changed, that dream. Now, I just wanted one person to accept me. Because that person is my most precious person, despite everything that he has done. My best friend, the person I would die for.

Suddenly, so long ago now, I had gotten them, friends, and I was so happy – for the first time. Having not the fake grins and joyous shouts that I had when I only wanted some attention, instead I had small smiles I would find on my face, maybe when I was talking, or sparring, or just sitting and watching.

Who needs lots of friends? I am content with a handful of true ones.

All it had taken for that to be gone was that one diamond to slip through my fingers.

And I chased it, and loosened my hold on the others.

I stare down the blood streaked face of my friend.

Regret and loss wash over me, heavy and smothering, bringing with it the realisation that this time…this time I couldn't fix it. No amount of training, or promises, or sacrifices, could get back what I had just lost.

And it is all my fault. All that time spent, wasted, on accessing that stupid chakra, just enough, but not too much so as not to lose control. And look at him now, battered and bruised, burnt and bloodied. Dead. All because I hadn't done what I should have done –what a good shinobi would have done-, I shouldn't have let my emotions get the better of me.

I slowly move my gaze to the scratched headband clutched tightly in my hand, the one secretly carried in my pocket for all this time. I move forward and crouch down, placing it with trembling fingers next to a barely recognisable face.

Ever so slowly, still, I walk to my left, such a long way, standing just behind the destroyed remains of a charred stone wall. With scared eyes I look out towards the battlefield.

I knew that it must have ended some time ago, but I wasn't awake to hear the final screams and the last screeches of metal. I had feared what I would see, and with sadness I acknowledge what I would have refused to accept a few years ago.

The first face I recognise is that of a pink-haired woman, her white sleeveless coat signifying her status as a medic. One who shouldn't be here, who should have stayed at home. Unshed tears finally start to sting my eyes as I think that no-one did what they should have today. My team-mate would be at home, reading books to brush up on her knowledge of pregnancy.

On one side of her lies another like me. He holds the still warm hand of his wife, pale face set in an everlasting smile. Red hair sways in a slight breeze, revealing the entirety of the scar on his forehead. I frown at the scene for a second before smiling sadly. I had wanted to be him, for a while. Then I had just sighed and smiled for them, happy when I was chosen as the best man.

Closer than the eye-catching couple lies a silver haired jounin, his hair only brown and red now, stained by dirt and blood. The book I was so used to glaring at is nowhere in sight. The man's face is tilted toward me, hand resting on his neck, holding his mask. The last favour my sensei does for me makes me bow my head.

I look further to the right, seeing many more known faces.

A blonde with her hair in two low pigtails, seemingly watching the sky, rests in the middle of a huge crater, the bodies of her last enemies surrounding her.

A petite black-haired woman is close, half-standing, her hand still burying a knife into the neck of a man with a long black coat with red clouds.

Another couple, both dark haired, have their backs to each other, having tried to survive by depending on each other.

A tall willowy woman, with pitch black hair and white clothing, still has her hands in a seal, eyes already closed. She lies on her side; legs still twisted form her stance.

A man with his hair in a spiked up ponytail reclines lazily against a tree. His face looks somehow serene and bored at the same time, completely untroubled about the many weapons sticking out of his chest. He has one leg crossed over the other and one hand wedged behind his head.

All I can see of one woman is a high ponytail, and a clear blue eye. I don't flinch at the sight of the rest of her lying separated, next to a huge holed sword.

Two almost identical men, different only in age and stature, have reddish skin, clashing horribly with their bright green jumpsuits.

I can see nothing of one comrade, only a trail of black spots, which I know are bugs. A large grey coat, taken off at last, is visible, many parts torn or missing completely.

Two shinobi fought side by side, vainly hoping to cover for their weak spots. Their large war weapons, finally having been used for their purpose, lie discarded, destroyed by another pair in black and red.

A pale eyed, curvaceous woman with long dark blue has her hands outstretched, several projectile weapons imbedded in them, failing to be destroyed or deflected. Another throwing star is stuck in the back of her neck, her one blind spot having been exploited.

Her team-mate is only a few feet away, a large dog curled around him, hiding him mostly from view. Crimson splashes colour the usually white fur of his partner.

A man with brown hair, also in a spiky ponytail, and a scar across the bridge of his nose, holds many weapons. He lies over an enemy's body, head lolling in an unnatural manner.

A line of completely demolished walls leads me to look out further, only to see anther comrade still and unmoving, many craters around him.

Another man with short black hair grasps a paint brush; a scroll ripped and tattered over one knee. He is sitting down, resting against a pile of enemy bodies, untroubled by that it seems.

Seeing the person I had never called friend, the person **I** had never truly accepted, makes me feel so much regret. Looking at my team-mates, my comrades, my friends…The girl I had loved long ago one-sidedly, the one who loved me only as a brother; the boy, now a man, who had thanked me, saying that I had saved him from darkness, my brother in so many ways; my teachers, whom I had always considered parents; the people I had never really got to know, who I took for granted; the girl that had loved me since we were five, the one I had loved too, secretly, for years now, the girl I had ignored in my personal rescue mission, the one I had planned to talk to when this was all over.

_When this was all over…_

And suddenly I realised, my dream hadn't changed into just wanting one particular person to accept me, it was these people here, in this field. My dream had been destroyed. They're cold and lifeless now, how can they accept me and continue to love me?

And it's all my fault. All mine. I had started my own mission to bring him back, drawing them in as well, me making stupid mistakes, him too, but wasn't seeing that. He was always thinking that everything was someone else's fault, that he was doing what he should, what anyone would do. He just didn't see that he was doing the same over and over again, that he was making all the wrong choices, even if they were for the right reasons.

And now all I can think are 'what if…'s and 'if only…'s.

If only I had known this before. I'm so _stupid_.

What if _he_ had thought of this, what would have happened then? Maybe he would have stopped; maybe this would all be okay.

If only...if only I could go back, change all this.

If only I had seen before whom my best friend was turning into, irreversibly. Then none of this would have happened. I guess this is the result of what you get when you blindly love someone.

What if everyone had known this, and willingly gone to war and died for me? I think they're the stupid ones if they did. Don't die for me, don't do all that for me, live your own life. Isn't it funny. Love is our greatest achievement, yet it can make us do the most terrible of crimes. Maybe that's why everyone has someone who will miss them when they're gone.

If only I had left this alone, got on with my own life. Then…then I would probably be at home, my village not in ruins, my friends and comrades alive still… maybe I would even be married by now, maybe even a father.

I had always wanted a family.

Because your family is those who love you, no matter what you do. They'll love you forever, even if it's secretly, even if they don't want to, even if they don't think they do, because that's what family is.

…I guess, Sasuke, that you really are my brother.

All reviews are cherished, even if they are flames (but you can review anonymously anyway). Constructive critiscisms appreciated greatly.


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